


Delayed Reaction

by veritashopian



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: D/s elements, Domesticity, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non Explicit, Teasing, from the discord server, indruck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritashopian/pseuds/veritashopian
Summary: Indrid puts the final touch on the last sketch and sets his pencil to the side, holding the page up to the light proudly. “What do you think? Is this in the realm of possibility or,” he licks his lips, suddenly parched. “Probability?”





	Delayed Reaction

When Indrid wakes it’s a slow, unhurried thing with no readily discernible reason. He can tell without opening his eyes that it’s nowhere near dawn, and he’s as safe as he’s ever been in Duck’s apartment. 

The thought makes him smile, and he reaches a hand across the mattress to place it on the steadily rising and falling shape of Duck’s torso. Even through his nightshirt, his skin radiates delightful heat and Indrid decides it’s criminal not to seek out more of it. He spoons up behind Duck and sighs into the hot skin of his neck where it meets the pillow. He flits lazily through the futures at hand, trying to find out which one has slipped into his dreams and spooled him out of sleep. 

The one that he settles on makes his eyes fly open and his whole body lock up, bony arms and legs going rigid from disbelief and restraint and-  _ want. “Duck,”  _ he breathes into the dark, at once delighted and debilitated by what he sees. His fingers dig into Duck’s shirt with a desperation that shocks him. 

The ranger himself babbles some fragment of a dream and rolls over in Indrid’s arms, turning to look at him with mussed hair and sweet, sleepy eyes. “Whassit, bud? See som’n?” He looks anxious, and Indrid realizes it’s because Duck thinks he’s scared, that he’s seen a danger in their near future. 

Slowly, deliberately, Indrid relaxes him limbs. He smooths his fingers over the chaos of Duck’s bedhead in soothing sweeps. “You could say that. But it’s nothing at all important, I assure you. Go back to sleep.”

“What-“

“ _ Time is it? _ ” they finish together, and Indrid shakes his head. “Quite early, I’m afraid. I’m sorry for waking you, that wasn’t my intention.”

“Issokay,” Duck yawns and throws his arm over Indrid’s body, pulling them flush. “Tell me ‘bout it in the mornin’?”

Indrid snuggles in close and smiles to himself, face still warm. “Sure, Duck.” He’ll certainly be telling him  _ something _ .

He almost doesn’t think he’ll be able to fall back asleep, but he must at some point because the next thing he feels is sunlight slotting through the blinds to weave warmth across his shoulders and face. Duck is mostly on top of him now, a most welcome weight on his chest that leaves him feeling secure rather than trapped or pinned. 

Unfortunately, the man snores like a chainsaw when he sleeps like that, which is what woke Indrid this time around. At least it’s at a more decent hour. 

Indrid adjusts his glasses and studies the man sleeping sprawled across his body. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to convince Duck to call into work, just this once. He’s dying to investigate what he saw last night, but…

“Hey,” he says. He pokes Duck’s cheek with one finger, pressing different points of his face until Duck hides against Indrid’s shoulder. “None of that now Duck, it’s time to get up. You promised Juno you’d actually be on time today, remember?”

“Yeah, do you remember who fuckin’ made me late all the days before?” Duck grumbles good naturedly, but he rolls off of Indrid all the same. He stands just out of reach by the edge of the bed and stretches his whole body in one tense, lovely line. “God, there just aren’t enough hours in the day.”

Indrid immediately misses the heat and pressure of Duck’s body, and once again seriously considers wrapping his arms around his lover and keeping him in bed for the rest of the day, work be damned. 

Duck shakes himself out from the stretch and heads to the bathroom, and Indrid deflates. Yeah, there’s no future where that actually works. As Indrid sits up, however, he spots something that might. 

On his side of the bed is a nightstand, thoughtfully placed and stocked with certain necessities. Indrid quickly reaches for a pencil and one of his sketch pads, hurrying once he hears the rumble of hot water in the pipes. Duck is quite the efficient showerer, and Indrid will only have three and a half minutes for what he wants to do. 

Indrid is still sketching when Duck returns with a towel around his waist, skin scrubbed pink and steaming from the hot water. He towels off his hair and leans over Indrid’s shoulder. “Whatcha drawin’?” he asks softly. “The thing from last night?”

“Hmm,” Indrid replies noncommittally. “It’s more like the thing from tonight. I think- I think that will remain up to you, Duck.”

Duck pauses and looks a little longer, and Indrid can feel the realization hit him like a pin just dropped in the room. Indrid puts the final touch on the last sketch and sets his pencil to the side, holding the page up to the light proudly. “What do you think? Is this in the realm of possibility or,” he licks his lips, suddenly parched. “ _ Probability?” _

“Indrid,” Duck chokes out. “You- is that really-?”

And- Okay, Indrid thinks. It’s certainly understandable that Duck would be confused. Indrid was wary himself. At least, he was at first. Instead of answering Duck’s strangled question, Indrid simply flips through the pages of his sketchbook and shows him. 

The first image is of Duck, walking through his own front door with his tie undone and his hat in his hand. His body language reads as tired, but his smile is warm and fills his eyes with obvious affection. 

“ _ Damn darlin’, I didn’t think you’d be waitin’ at the door. Did ya miss me or something? Or- oh, duh. You saw when I’d get home. Still a nice welcome.” _

The second is of the two of them,  sharing a warm drink on the couch as they talk about their days. It’s a familiar part of their routine nowadays.

“ _ You already know everything that happened on my end Indrid, why don’t you just tell me what you been up to?” _

_ “That’s not fair through! Besides, I much prefer listening to you talk in person to hearing it all in my head. Now please, tell me all about Juno and the woodchuck. I want to hear your theories on how it got to her hair drier before I tell you how it actually happened.” _

Indrid flips through the drawings faster. There’s a doodle of himself kissing a blushing Duck on the cheek, another nearby of him whispering something into his ear. Up until that point, their evening had several possible futures. But the next thing Indrid drew was a detailed study of Duck’s face, and he knows Duck recognizes that expression of abject longing on himself. Just as Indrid knows what he’s making that face at. 

Drawing number six Indrid is rather proud of. His vision was crystal clear at that particular moment, and he packed a lot of detail into the image that he normally might have missed, like the way Duck’s fingers wrap all the way around his wrists as he pins Indrid down against their bed, the both of them fully clothed. The tears of pleasure streaking the inside of his glasses as he writhes and gasps, the blush that spreads across his collarbones… The arch of his own spine as he futilely bucks his hips, all but begging with his body for mercy. Mercy that won’t come, because Duck looms over him with a smug smile and won’t put his hand anywhere near Indrid’s dick. 

“You’re saying something,” Duck murmurs as he looks on, an enraptured look on his face. He points with one finger at the drawing of Indrid’s mouth, open mid-word. “There. You look like you’re tryna tell me something.”

“I am,” Indrid agrees shakily. “As much as you apparently enjoy seeing these visions illustrated, it appears that you  _ especially  _ enjoy it when I narrate them to you.”

_ “Tell me what you saw, darlin’. Tell me what got you so worked up that you just had to wake up and try and seduce me into it.” _

_ “Ah-! Duck please, I need to-“ _

_ “Nah ah, Indrid. You gotta tell me.” _

_ “I saw- haaa, I saw this. I saw you holding me down, teasing me, not letting me- not  _ **_touching me_ ** _ until I found the right future and described it to you. But, but Duck, there isn’t a right future until you decide on it!” _

_ “Well, then you’d better get talking so I can pick one. I’m tough enough, I can do this aaaaall fuckin’ night.” _

Duck shudders, full bodied and strong, and Indrid yelps as his lover’s arm winds around his waist and crushes him to Duck’s side. “You’re a fuckin’ menace,” he hisses, pressing a biting kiss just beneath his ear. “How am I supposed to concentrate on my work when I know this is what I’m gonna be coming home to?”

“You could stay,” Indrid says quickly, hopefully. “You’ve changed the future before, I don’t see why you wouldn’t again.”

There’s a pause, and there’s a fraction of a second where Indrid sees it- there it is, the future where he convinces Duck to have his way with him right then and there, hold him there for hours and wring him dry, make him scream and beg for it-

“Nah,” Duck says. He steps away completely, calm as anything, and starts rummaging through his wardrobe for a clean uniform. “I think I’ll make you wait a little longer. Give you some time to see something real nice while I’m gone.”

“Duck, I-“

“Hey, can you future vision me up what kind of donuts Juno wants? I did say I’d get ‘em this time, so she’d have time to do her hair for once.”

“Duck,” Indrid whimpers. “ _ Please.” _

Duck turns to him, now dressed except for his tie and hat. The teasing smile on his face melts into something softer, and he walks back to the bed to wrap Indrid in a gentle hug. “I really do have to go, but I’ll see you tonight,” he whispers. “We can have a real nice night with just the two of us. Just like you saw.”

Indrid squeezes him back. It still embarrasses him how attached he got to this human, and how quickly, but by the heart of Sylvain he can’t bring himself to care. “I’ll be waiting,” he says finally. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Duck grins. “And I hope you wait  _ patiently.  _ Just because we got spoilers doesn’t mean you can spoil it completely.”

And- okay, Indrid really should have seen that coming. “I take it back, I hate you. This is me, hating you now.”

“Lies, you know I’m the best. Catch ya later.” Duck leans down and gives him a quick peck on the lips, and within minutes he’s gone. 

Indrid sighs and turns back to his sketchbook. He might as well start shifting through all of the possibilities for the evening ahead. 

Duck was right- he’s going to need every one he can get his mind’s eye on if he expects any chance of boning tonight.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> One day I will write actual smut
> 
> That day is not today


End file.
